


Unfulfillment

by kainetics



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Also ‘Sup Fellas, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Bad Decisions, Gunplay, It’s Not Drastic or Anything Though, Look Who’s Alive and Back, M/M, Manhandling, Oh Sehun Is An Absolute Jerk™, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Unrequited Love, angst???, idk a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:38:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kainetics/pseuds/kainetics
Summary: Sehun is just another fleeting dream.





	Unfulfillment

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for this almost month-long (uninformed) hiatus; studies had completely vanquished my procrastinative ass.
> 
> ~~_**Note:** Not an update of ‘Rapax’ everyone had been expecting._~~
> 
> **Unbeta’d.**
> 
> Enjoy. (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*:

 

 

Darkness hangs ominously over the city like the ambience of a mute holocaust, enshrouding everything.

 

Jongin wraps the worn-out scarf around his neck, wool chafing the sensitive skin of his neck when he looks both ways before crossing the road.

 

It’s the last month of fall.

 

The late autumn air quiescently curls into the lapels of his threadbare coat. The chills prick his skin, and he shivers slightly, while mindlessly trampling on red maple leaves with each step.

 

Usually, whenever he’s on a break, without any volition, he’d take more time leisurely walking and drinking his black coffee more slowly, savoring the bitterness falling on his palate. But this time, he has nowhere to go, and his stroll wouldn’t end without a destination.

 

It is mostly uneventful until a particularly hard gust of wind swiftly breezes past Jongin. His scarf comes undone at the impact, slipping from where it’s coiled around his neck, and flutters away.

 

“Hey wait!” Jongin hollers and automatically breaks into a tenacious run, sprinting across the pavement to chase the eluding piece of cloth.

 

The empty streets seem strangely desolate; not even a single pedestrian roving them or any yapping of stray dogs echoing around.

 

His unprecedented marathon continues for a hectic ten minutes before he finally comes to a halt in front of a secluded alleyway, body plunged into cycles of harsh panting and heaving. Mollified when he spots the unmistakable burgundy hue of his scarf despite his blurry vision, he wearily strides to the end of the alley to retrieve his scarf; but the moment his fingers reach for its hem, another sudden surge storms the featherlight thing away.

 

Jongin twists his torso to grapple it, albeit failing hilariously. The brusque momentum makes him lose his balance, and an aghast shriek escapes his lips as he stumbles over nothing and falls down, butt hitting the stony concrete with an audible thud.

 

“Goddamnit!”

 

Luckily enough, he hears no sounds apart from the hushed sibilation of drifting breeze and the obvious echo of his own yelling. _Fine,_ at least there’s one sliver of optimism that no one’s present to make fun of his untimely mishap.

 

Well, not _yet._

 

Much to his chagrin, only a minute later, he picks up a deep laugh from afar, the melody hitting him like a torpedo.

 

_Fuck._

 

“What are you doing down there, boy?”

 

Anxiety incessantly gnaws at his pounding heart.

 

Grimacing severely, Jongin refuses to glance up, half-expecting to be greeted by a kind-faced old man probably out walking his dog or some serial killer assuming a condescending tone to merely rejoice in his misery and the impending doom of his fate.

 

But seems like Jongin perhaps forgot the saying about fate being a capricious little nuisance.

 

He jostles in astonishment when a fire manifests right before his face. Crawling backwards, he curses under his breath, notwithstanding the spark of curiosity for whose hand is reaching down to grab his own. Though, it also makes him morbidly consider whether to let the ground swallow him whole and relieve him of this quandary.

 

Jongin somehow forces himself to look up and spots a familiar visage staring at him blankly.

 

Well, in his defense, at least he wasn’t wrong about the ‘killer’ conjecture.

 

“You seem scared,” Sehun remarks, the semblance of a sly smile gracing the corners of his thin lips. A shiny zippo poised between his slim fingers which is still igniting that impressive flame. Jongin keeps mum while staring in shock as the other shuts down its lid and intensely peers down at him with an indecipherable expression.

 

“Er… n-no, I mean –” Jongin balks, and awkwardly adjusts his scarf, wondering if he should grab the proffered hand, but ends up reprimanding himself for why the taxidermied face before him makes his stomach turn uneasily.

 

“Fuck- you just…” he mumbles while struggling. The cheeky grin tipping into Sehun’s features should infuriate him, instead, he finds himself too flustered to do much else than stutter nervously. “You just startled me, that’s all.”

 

Sehun fondly shakes his head, extending his arm towards Jongin, and out of nowhere, softly caresses his cheek. The tender gesture causes him to squint at Sehun questioningly who just tilts his neck, smile remaining intact. “Are you still having troubles with nightmares?”

 

Jongin’s heart lurches. _He remembers._

 

“N-no…” he trails off, not deigning to go any further than stammering monosyllabic answers or pull out those ‘why are you back’s. He wordlessly accepts Sehun’s hand and stands up, legs shaking as he coyly dusts himself off before stepping back to lean against the brick wall in a wave of defeat.

 

“Hmm, but something is irking you. I can _smell_ it.” Sehun inches closer to him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

 

Jongin snorts and bites back a faltering smile. “Have you somehow managed to miraculously acquire the prowess of clairalience?”

 

Sehun just cocks a brow, regarding him with an incomprehensible look. “Impressive. But regardless, maybe I am indeed somewhat mystical.”

 

Jongin rolls his eyes in an overly dramatic fashion at the cheeky comeback, and readjusts his slightly askew scarf. Stifling silence blankets them for a considerable amount of time, the only sound perceptible being a medley of the heavy sweeps of cutting wind and Sehun’s transient breaths as he takes long, lazy drags from the cancer stick, the embers at the tip glowing brightly.

 

It’s just a festering platitude. The lighter slanting lopsidedly as Sehun nurses an illuminant flame from his zippo onto his joint, takes a deep drag, and lets the smoke gush out, viscous and unsettlingly white, through his teeth.

 

Slumping down unsteadily against the wall, Jongin absentmindedly averts his gaze towards the faraway sidewalk.

 

“Lucid dreaming,” Jongin informs, voice barely above a whisper.

 

Interest piqued, Sehun flicks the half-burnt cigarette to the ground and soaks in the belated response, crushing the ashy remnants under the sole of his expensive dress shoes.

 

“Fancy.” He runs his lean fingers through those unkempt bangs tickling his eyes and turns to face Jongin, sporting a tiny smirk. “So, what do you dream of?”

 

Jongin aimlessly lets his musings wander in directions that are as unwanted as they are untoward.

 

His dreams.

 

Shouldn’t Sehun have the tiniest bit of right to know?

 

He looks at Sehun.

 

A gust of chilly air blows at his hair, and he shivers as Sehun’s breathtaking smile breezes into him.

 

Jongin finds himself attracted to Sehun like the skittish moth that is singed by the tepid flame it naïvely flutters around, only to end up charring itself in the incandescence owing to its foolishness.

 

Sighing pensively, Jongin takes a step closer to Sehun who appears mildly surprised by his stir of movement. He curls his arms around Sehun’s slender neck, coaxing the latter towards him, gaze a little unfocused and hands inadvertently reaching to faintly grasp a few billowing strands of those soft silver locks.

 

“I dream of you.”

 

Eyes hooded, Jongin plants an open-mouthed kiss at one corner of Sehun’s chapped lips, murmuring, “Of your fingertips raking across my skin.”

 

Jongin drinks in the feel of strong arms clasping him around the waist as Sehun slams him against the wall and tugs him into a spellbinding kiss, tongue twining with his own, hot and passionate.

 

It is good, so good that they keep going and kiss for a long time, Sehun just pressing him against the wall, as the melody of pulsing blood and ebbing surges of monochromatic ecstasy ring in Jongin’s ears.

 

No questions asked, no words spoken, just two lost souls gravitating towards each other a lot.

 

Once again.

 

Every time Jongin attempts to back away, Sehun surges forward, insistently sucking on Jongin’s swollen lips and probing his tongue deeper inside, stealing his breath with every osculation.

 

“You are gorgeous,” Sehun blurts out breathlessly, disconnecting their lips and holding his gaze with Jongin who loses himself in those deep brown irises.

 

_And you are greedy as ever._

 

“I know,” Jongin replies instead, lurching forth to capture Sehun’s lips in another searing kiss. Halfway through devouring his mouth, he feels Sehun grin unscrupulously into the kiss.

 

“Be mine, Jongin-ah.”

 

Sehun’s arms bracket him, palms fixed on either side of his head locking him in place with nowhere to escape, the other’s body hot and flush against his own. Sehun rests his forehead against Jongin’s own who cups a side of his face, swiping his thumb along the line of a sharp cheekbone.

 

“I am, Sehunnie.”

 

Sehun is all tentative touches and sultry whispers as he tantalizingly nips at Jongin’s bottom lip, and as hands fumble with the buttons on Jongin’s shirt.

 

But who in this wretched world doesn’t revel in donning vile façades?

 

Sehun is still eyeing him, near invitingly so. It seems almost bizarre, somehow, the way his heavy features suddenly transform into something serene and gentle, how his lips lopsidedly curl up in a secretive smile. It’s always so strange, Jongin admits with a shiver.

 

Sehun reaches into his back pocket and suddenly pulls out his revolver. Jongin’s eyes widen and he unintentionally begins backing away, right arm moving without approval to grab at the frigid muzzle of the weapon.

 

“Why would you need this?” Jongin asks, heart palpitating and eyebrows twitching irately. “Don’t tell me that it’s loaded-”

 

“Do you think _I_ would frolic around with an unloaded one?” Sehun spits out incredulously, brandishing the gun swiftly in his grip.

 

“You are insufferable,” Jongin says, his breath hitching when the cool tip of the muzzle finds purchase on the skin of his throat, right above the frantic bobbing of his Adam’s apple. Sehun’s free hand descends down to caress his torso, slowly lifting up his shirt. Jongin lets a small moan slip and rests his quaking palms on Sehun’s biceps, exhaling shakily as the chills from Sehun’s calloused fingertips suffuse his warm skin.

 

He throws his head back when Sehun nuzzles the curve of his neck, mind balefully registering the real trouble when his cock pulses, achingly hard.

 

“Shh, it’s fine.” Sehun drags the muzzle down to Jongin’s clavicle, sinisterly mimicking an impartation of reassurance. Jongin feels his heart plummet uncontrollably against his ribcage because there’s no way he can be assuaged.

 

Sehun is a fucking lunatic.

 

And he is goddamn right because just two seconds later Sehun smacks him across the face with the revolver, and Jongin swears that he hears a crunch; the unbearably painful impact comparable to the sickening feeling of his jaw being virtually cracked in half.

 

“What the hell-”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Sehun deadpans, shoving the entirety of the gun’s muzzle into Jongin’s mouth. Jongin chokes harshly and instinctively restrains his gag reflex, thickly swallowing around the barrel while a tell-tale coppery taste of blood floods his palate.

 

“You will do as I say,” Sehun says, pressing the gun deeper into Jongin’s throat as a prior warning, his index insouciantly hanging around the trigger. Jongin inhales deeply and nods tersely in approval; provoking Sehun would do him no good, and inevitably prove to be both unnecessarily stupid and fatal.

 

“What if I pull this?” Sehun’s speech sounds bizarrely slurred and his tone saccharine. He avidly twists the gun inside Jongin’s mouth to accentuate his words.

 

“How beautiful the thought is – the image of black gunpowder splattered all over your pretty lips as you fucking bleed to death,” Sehun says, chuckling deeply and indulgently rutting his hips against Jongin’s bare thighs.

 

A sharp coil of repulsion twists inside Jongin.

 

Seconds later, Sehun retracts the revolver, painstakingly slow, and a cascade of saliva drips down from it as he does. He shoves the wet thing into his back-pocket and starts undoing his belt. Jongin grasps his own throat, sucking harsh breaths in huge, vital gulps to let oxygen fill his despairing lungs as he watches Sehun deliberately put on a show while unbuckling his belt.

 

Jongin thinks it’s a bit perverse the way his mouth waters while he cursorily eyes Sehun’s thicker-than-average shaft as the latter concentrates on stroking himself to full hardness, lust and desire driving him to imagine what would it be like to have Sehun shove the whole of it into the confines of his mouth. Much to his dismay, Jongin never gets to experience that bliss.

 

Sehun is impatient as he bends Jongin over the hood of a lone, smelly dumpster against a lone, featureless brick wall in the dimming chiaroscuro of some nondescript alleyway in Seoul. A choked cry is all he can manage when the bulbous tip of Sehun’s cock nudges into his opening. 

 

Sehun feeds Jongin his cock, thrusting inside him in one go without an iota of finesee.

 

Jongin gasps sharply, maintaining a keen eye on the surroundings, though he highly doubts anyone would even bother to enter this dingy alleyway at this ungodly hour. But it never hurt to be a little cautious. Frankly, everything still seems so surreal - he’s again letting this murderous maniac fuck him; now in some dark, dank alley, and relishing every demented moment of it.

 

The cock in his ass is too big and it hurts because Sehun allows him no reprieve to adjust, ruthlessly fucking into him with brutish lunges, and pulls out to smack at his buttocks with his cock when he sobs a little too loud. The way he fucks this time is unyielding, unforgiving, unfeeling. It completely tears Jongin apart, but he manages to strangle his whines because at least, Sehun is finally back with his peculiar scent and body temperature that have forever lingered in Jongin’s darkest dreams. Jongin feels Sehun smear precome across his welted cheeks, as if sardonically reminding Jongin of how pathetic and helpless is.

 

“Jongin, fuck… so tight,” Sehun moans, low and guttural, and proceeds to re-enter Jongin, the slide slick and hot. Mind reeling at the sensation of the other’s zipper chafing his flesh raw and rubbing the sensitive skin of his buttocks red, Jongin finds himself dangerously close to being on the verge of screaming uncontrollably like a madman.

 

Sehun grabs at his neck, seething as he drags him back and up, forcing him to arch off from the hood. Jongin’s his lashes flutter at the rough handling, and he is unable to swallow a feeble, debilitating moan.

 

To his mortification, he feels himself a bit too desperate to take it, wanting to test how much his body could handle.

 

It should be humiliating; instead, it’s exhilarating.

 

Hot tears flit in Jongin’s eyes, but Sehun only snickers in response to his pitiful noises, ramming into his gaping hole and blurring the threshold between pain and pleasure within his numbed senses.

 

“Hush, Nini, soon, okay?” The words that offer him some kind of debatable comfort sound a bit distant but he manages to heed them nonetheless.

 

“Ahh…” Jongin’s mouth goes slack, a hiccupped whimper leaving his lips as he nods, frantic and unbridled.

 

The vulnerable display seems to incites Sehun delightfully - of Jongin gasping for breath, of tears clinging to his long lashes. Sehun releases a rabid moan, bucking his hips and bouncing a dazed Jongin on his cock, and maintains his brutal rhythm the whole time.

 

It’s as if Sehun is exposing Jongin, making him realise how his own dick is uselessly weeping, fully hard and flushed a deep red because of being fucked open so violently.

 

And Jongin fucking loves it. Why would he not?

 

Sehun’s breath begins faltering, so does his once relentless pace, and he maneuvers Jongin onto his back, shattering the dial of his disgustingly expensive Cartier amidst the hasty motion.

 

One pant leg slides down Jongin’s shin and conveniently slips off from his ankle along with his shoe. Jongin vehemently shakes his other leg to fully get rid of his soiled jeans. After a few tedious attempts, he succeeds, the bunched up garment hitting concrete with a muffled thud. It renders Jongin completely nude waist down and allows him to loosely wrap his wobbly legs around Sehun’s hips. He grizzles loudly, squirming in discomfort and promptly digging his bare heels into the small of Sehun’s back to the pull the latter closer.

 

Sehun lets out a candid laugh at his desperation, sweat trickling down his forehead and soaking into the drenched material of his collar. He momentarily abates the strength of his thrusts and mercilessly delivers a hard smack to Jongin’s buttocks, the supple flesh jiggling adorably as he coos, “Such a needy slut.”

 

Jongin bites into his sore lips and stifles a filthy mewl while a pleasing tingle of ache burns throughout the region.

 

It goes on like that for a while. Sehun swivelling his hips and leisurely fucking into Jongin who croons with wanton disregard, faintly tossing his head from side to side, the warmth emanating from Sehun’s palms feverishly exploring his body so soothing that he cannot stop his eyelids from drooping down heavily.

 

Cock leaking incessantly and dripping pearls of precome onto his abdomen, Jongin mouths his pained cries against the sodden sleeve of his coat at those occasionally sharp staccato thrusts that betray the languid pace Sehun has set. He expels a throaty moan, back gracefully arching off the hood when Sehun goes deeper and the latter’s swollen cockhead ruthlessly jabs at his prostate.

 

“Ahh Sehunnie... there.” Jongin’s last syllable softens into a moan. All his panted breaths fall into gibberish, with lots of pretty trills and rolls of the tongue. Suddenly, something feral snaps within Sehun and he grudgingly gnashes his teeth, quickly resuming his former rhythm, strong hips brutally pounding away into a pliant Jongin until he finally grasps a hold of his own burgeoning orgasm.

 

The sharp edges of the hood underneath Jongin painfully cut the fragile flesh of his hips as Sehun sharply thrusts forward one last time before the muscles in his abdomen flex and his hips start stuttering.

 

Sehun’s eyelids hang heavy, his expression blissful and grip firm on Jongin’s hips as his cock keeps spurting come into Jongin’s tight heat. Whining plaintively, Jongin obscenely spreads his thighs wider, body going limp and receptive when Sehun begins shallowly fucking his come into him and lets out a satiated grumble at the luscious warmth encasing his pulsing cock.

 

Head lolling back in contention, Jongin feels his legs quiver as he generously lets Sehun take his fill to his heart’s content, moaning like an utter whore all the way through it, body overwhelmed and strangely overfilled. It’s in that immeasurably tiny span where his pain seamlessly subdues under Sehun’s agonizing but lustful fondling and brings him back into the sugarcoated reality of righted wrongs and perfected faults.There is nothing sempiternal about it, nothing fey about his spoiled body which is presently tasting the acrid bitterness of Sehun’s come. And the only part Jongin would be able to recall in the end is that Sehun comes enough for a lot of it to end up seeping out of his fucked-out hole. Unthinking, Jongin heeds the grotesque squelch when the other pulls out, a sloppy mess of semen steadily trickling down the soft curve of his buttocks and soaking into the material of Sehun’s slacks.

 

The surroundings gradually grow hazier, blinding white spots flickering in Jongin’s distorted vision as he comes untouched, sticky splotches of his own semen now dripping down his own balls.

 

Jongin loathes how truculently ephemeral the boon of euphoria with someone like Sehun tends to be. And how gullible his heart is to trust the bastard who has already broken him, already forsaken him once.

 

He ponders silently, sanity tethering by the frailest of cords, not uttering a word when Sehun receives a seemingly important call and prepares to leave without any explanations whatsoever. What hurts the most is that Sehun doesn’t help him put on his clothes, doesn’t even spare him a second glance or just a blasé farewell as he blithely proceeds to saunter out of the alley.

 

Crestfallen, Jongin watches Sehun abandon him, heart plummeting and thighs trembling, eyes full of loneliness and a slew of crimson liquid cascading down his skin. He has half a mind to dive into the disgusting dumpster before him, to suffocate himself in the putrefying, maggot-infested rubbish accumulated in there – a derisively perfect representation of his soul.

 

_Will he ever return?_

 

That ugly feeling of doubt seizes Jongin’s guts, uncertainties inexorably rushing past his woozy mind as he gathers his clothes and mutely dresses up. Sniffling softly, he cradles the luridly purpling bruise blossoming on his tear-stained cheek; his palate still tender, blood still flooding the insides of his mouth, the scarf still wound around his neck.

 

There is an obtrusive kind of silence prevailing. His memories are ridden with white smoke twirls drifting apart from the ends of chapped lips, diffusing through the air in faint, frosty fumes, only to deceitfully enshroud a pallid, ghostly countenance.

 

Thick pulse and dizziness make Jongin’s head throb and stomach heave. He really can’t feel the tips of his fingers, or brace his brittle bones anymore for that matter.

 

Numb, so numb.

 

He swallows thickly, and his Adam’s apple bobs up, stops, and doesn’t come down.

 

Everything hurts, hurts, hurts, and hurts a little more.

 

_He was used._

 

The knot around his neck seems tighter, like a smothering noose.

 

_Again._

**Author's Note:**

> **#6YearsWithEXO ♡**
> 
> ~~Why is it only tragic pwp that I have got to offer on such an auspicious occasion *gross sobbing*~~
> 
> I am working on another piece (*groans* again, not Rapax), but some unprecedented difficulties are holding me back from announcing its completion. (Also, this is a _kinda_ deleted scene from that).
> 
> ~~Well it’s not as if I’m saying that I weirdly like to imagine that hand belonging to someone else in the photo above...~~
> 
> Tysm for reading! :D


End file.
